Regret
by LigeiaMaloy
Summary: A Medic with a headache, an angry Sniper, a Scout having a bad mood. And it's all - of course - Spy's fault. WARNING: Slash male/male , the explicit kind. Don't like it? It's okay, but kindly leave now. There are enough stories you'd like more.


_[author's note]Warning: smutty, explicit slash included, if you don't like man x man stuff, you won't enjoy this. No evil kinks though. _

_He, I'm getting cocky, after I wasn't burnt alive for "Two worlds" I thought I might upload this fic here as well. :D_

_Translations at the bottom. [/end author's note]_

**Regret**

"Go. Just... go avay..."  
His head hurt and every blow against the wooden door brought back more memories of the last night. Details the Medic didn't want to remember as he wished they never had happened, but it was too late now. All he wished for at this moment was to be left alone, here, in his office, with its shut blinds, the lamps switched off. Light hurt his eyes and the dark, depressing atmosphere mirrored the present state of his mind.

"OPEN THAT FUCKIN' DOOR, NOW, YA BLOODY BASTARD!" the man in the corridor yelled and kicked and hit not only against the door, but also the wall in his desperate fury and Medic knew he deserved this anger towards him, it was his own fault, but he couldn't face the Sniper just now, didn't want to explain. Didn't want to see the scornful, disgusted expression. Even if it was cowardly, he didn't care. Later, maybe, when he finally understood, ever understood, what had happened, but for now... how could he explain his behavior to him if he couldn't even explain it to himself?  
The pain expanded from his forehead to his eyes, even the nerves of his teeth began to hurt.

"YOU OWE ME AN EXPLANATION! OPEN. THAT. DOOR, JOHANNES!"  
The Sniper was an honest man. No surprise he would loathe him after his betrayal. And there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe one thing, the only thing the Medic could offer was to stop running away and accept the consequences. At least he should open the door and put up with him like a man. Instead of cheating him again. He knew he was cruel, not even allowing Sniper to get rid of his anger. Weren't his actions shameful enough? How pathetic. What happened to his usual composure, proud and dignified almost to the point of smug complacency and arrogance? Medic felt disgusted with himself, not only had he lost his lover, but also his own personality. He didn't know the man in the mirror anymore, a hideous stranger.

"Come on, Jo... I just want to talk... goddamn, talk to me, please, Jo... OPEN THAT DOOR!" The Sniper's voice had switched from shouting angrily to desperately begging several times within the last... 10 minutes? 30 minutes? How long was he standing there, outside? No matter how often Medic had asked him to just go away, he didn't listen. Stubborn, headstrong Sniper, who never gave up.  
The shadow of a sad smile showed on the Medic's face and his head hurt even more. There was a certain irony in the fact that those character traits he loved about the Australian haunted him now. Just a little bit longer, only long enough to make this headache disappear, and it would be easier to stand up to him and endure the Sniper's words that would announce their break-up for good and make it real.  
Maybe he should take some medicine after all, his stomach was about to turn, too. "Scheiß Migräne..."

x x x x

The moment Spy left the room and closed the door behind him, he took the small, metallic case from his jacket and selected carefully his next cigarette. Most people he had met in his life smiled at his little ritual, he never chose one from the edge, always the one from the middle, or left from the middle. Just a silly habit, the only harm it did was that he had to refill the case when only two cigarettes were left. The Medic had called it a compulsive act but saw no necessity to do something about that, Spy should only be careful and observe his own actions, just in case he developed other habits that might constrain his freedom.  
Spy lightened the tip of the cigarette and sighed with relief when the smoke filled his lungs, slowly blowing it out through his nose. The recent conversation, although it was all praise and satisfaction from his employer's side, left a depressing feeling he didn't like at all. Probably because of the lack of an appropriate distance to the target persons in this special case.  
A faint, clicking sound distracted him from his thoughts and he glanced to the side. Another gray and rainy day, fitting the sombre atmosphere of this day. Winter was about to be gone soon, only a few weeks until spring, but the weather had obviously forgotten to adjust itself to the season. It was chilly, but still too warm and there hadn't been any snow this year and he doubted there would be. Just one gloomy day after another, filled with storms and rain. Of course snow and ice could be unpredictable variables, even crucial factors of their survival. The assignments they had to accomplish usually didn't take the weather into account, so rain was more favorable. Yet, despite all reason and professionalism, Spy missed the white winter scenery with its illusion of innocence, something he rarely experienced in his profession. For a little while longer he stood at the window and gazed into the yard. A plain, functional training area for shooting practice. Wooden targets, bales of straw, barrels and other junk lay scattered on the ground, lately none of them felt very motivated to keep the place in order. Behind the walls he could see open, barren fields stretching over the landscape, even further away the fringes of the forest. Cut off from the next city like that he felt more separated from civilization on days like this. Especially this morning, with all the tension in the air, the usual, comfortable solitude threatened to change into an irritating feeling of loneliness.

He had forgotten to pull on his cigarette, now it had come to extinguish itself before he could have finished it. Grumbling to himself he flicked the butt carelessly to the floor and reached for his case again when he heard footsteps from behind the other side of the door.  
Watching the raindrops running down the surface of the window, he decided he was not in the mood of talking anymore and put his cigarettes away so the smoke wouldn't give his position away once he was invisible. A few more minutes passed, but nobody left the room.  
But he decided to stay cloaked anyway and wandered down the corridor, along the array of windows.  
Without any jobs and most of his teammates on vacation this weekend there was not much he could do. Nevertheless he aimed for the common room, uncertain what he might expect there today, but he couldn't avoid the confrontation forever.

Once he left the administrative wing he heard loud noises and an angry voice. The Sniper, of course, it was impossible not to recognize him and Spy was glad he was invisible. He reached the short side passage that lead to the Medic's office and stopped.

"OPEN THAT DOOR, JOHANNES!" the Australian shouted that very moment.  
'So that's _his_ name.' Spy thought, feeling an unusual pang of guilt. Not that he minded more private facts about his teammates, gathering information was his job and passion after all, but the circumstances weren't, well, very honorable. He almost laughed in spite of himself but swallowed that noise just in time. The others called him a sneak, a backstabber. Sometimes as a joke, sometimes in contempt, _honor_ wasn't an important factor in his job, he knew that and didn't mind.

The Sniper's voice changed from anger to desperation to begging and back. Spy could only shake his head, wondering how this would end. There was no light shining from under the crack of the door, and he didn't hear any other sounds than those from the Sniper's attacks against the door and wall and his yelling and imploring. So the Medic didn't seem to plan to unlock the door or even talk to the Australian.  
'Give up, bushman. Even if 'e would talk to you, zere's nozing you can do. Better give 'im up now, imbécile.'  
Carefully avoiding to make any sounds he moved on. As soon as he was out of sight, he leaned against the white-washed wall of the narrow corridor and stared out of the window once more, reminiscing about the last night.

x x x

A grumpy Sniper sat at the large table in the common room, a thick, bright red scarf around his neck. Now and then he coughed and instead of a bottle of beer he held a cup of steaming, hot tea in his hand. Demoman and Pyro mocked him, having a cold like this, after all his boasting about outside adventures in Australian wastelands, African jungles and American deserts. Even the snowy fields of Russia he had traveled. At least that was what he had told them so often. And now, after a few days in the rain, he had come down with a cold, a fact he didn't bear with much grace. Nobody expected him to speak much with a sore throat so they didn't mind he stayed silent. He might be in a bad mood after all that teasing, but both men would leave the base in a few hours for a week and as the Australian usually didn't bear grudges, everything would be fine and forgotten when they returned.

It was half past ten when the Medic entered the room, finally done with his reports and other paperwork. The German didn't like the bureaucratic aspects of his job and as much as he preferred to keep his office and instruments in perfect order and shape, when it came to desk work he usually found excuses to do it later. With half of the team gone for a while and not much else to do he finally faced the unavoidable and had decided to get rid of the unwelcome duty as soon as possible, thus he had spent most of the last two days in his office. Glad he had finally finished he had planned to have something to drink and visit his recent patient afterwards, but obviously, he had to change his schedule.

"Vhat are you doing here?" he asked reproachfully. "Didn't you plan to sleep in your van zhis night, dying from zhe little cold?" He pulled a chair closer to the Sniper and touched his forehead. "Vell, at least zhe fever is gone."

"That's why I changed my mind." Sniper grumbled and finished his sentence with another cough.  
The Medic grinned mockingly at him.  
"Nice to hear zhat you realized you are still vizh zhe living."  
"Not you, too." Sniper passed Demoman and Pyro an angry glare when they chuckled. "Wankers. Hey, doc, wanna have a drink? Nah, lemme get it for ya, I'm no invalid yet."  
"Warum nicht, yes, give me a beer, please. Vhat are you playing?"  
The Sniper sat down again and both of them joined the other two men in their card game, switching to poker. It was a merry little round, and the Australian's inability to speak much this evening didn't affect his poker skills at all. Obviously, being forced to refrain from the usual bantering and joking helped him to focus on his game and actually increase his skill. Maybe the fact that he was the only one not drinking alcohol today helped, too.  
Demo had reached his usual blood alcohol level hours ago and Pyro already started to show the first signs of weariness and lack of concentration too much drinking caused to non-alcoholic people. Both men failed to notice the little touches and gestures from the Sniper whenever he brought Medic another beer or tried to peek into his cards. Nothing too obvious, to the eye of an observer nothing more than signs of affection between good friends. But the two of them understood the meaning and under the intoxicating influence of the drinks the German couldn't help blushing, knowing very well how to interpret the Sniper's behavior. Aware of that and already a bit dizzy in his head he became nervous, fearing the other two might realize what was going on and get wind of their forbidden relationship. After all, their contracts didn't even allow friendships and everyone considered himself lucky that the breaking of that rule was tolerated as long as it didn't result in any conflicts considering their line of work. But neither society nor their employer would accept the love between two men, may it be physically or emotionally. Hence it was likely that even their friends would turn away from them in disgust, not to speak of the risk to lose their jobs. Yet, whenever the Sniper whispered another strategy for their card game into his ear or slightly brushed the skin of his hand when he handed him another bottle of beer, the Medic wished he could ignore the other two teammates and reach out for his lover.

"Have another one."  
"Sniper, I zhink you vant to get me drunk." he accused the Australian when he brought yet another bottle.  
"Why would I do that?" Sniper croaked, his voice lower than before, although he had avoided to speak more than necessary it was apparently too much. This little indisposition didn't affect his grin at all.  
"Vhat do I know, distracting me from zhe game so you vould vin more." He stopped grinning when the Sniper came closer to his ear.  
"Maybe I just wanna fuck ya when ya drunk."  
The low, hoarse voice sent a shiver down the Medic's spine and he shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He wasn't a teenager anymore, not even in his twenties. At any other day, drunk or not, he had complete control over his desires as long as the situation wasn't appropriate, but for some reason he had troubles to keep his countenance this evening.  
"Whaddeya talkin 'bout, laddie?" Demoman slurred, almost falling off his chair, and Pyro mumbled something inarticulately.  
"Told him you were cheating, mate." Sniper replied politely.  
The Medic didn't listen to the Demoman's protests and curses or took notice of Pyro's efforts to calm his friend down. He had forgotten about the card game, all he wanted was to get out of here. The world around him was spinning and he found it difficult to breathe, the air was too warm and too stuffy. Just getting out of here, away from the others, with his Sniper and getting rid of this unbearable tension in his groin.

"What's wrong with ya, mate, ya not looking well." The worried voice, the large hand with its long fingers on his shoulder only made it worse. He shoved the hand aside and stood up, shaking unsteadily, his mind foggy, feeling a bit nauseous, probably from all the beer.  
"Wait, I take ya to ya room."  
"You come vizh me?" the German implored, now looking at him directly, with an unmistakable expression on his face, his cheeks flushed. Sniper smiled.  
"Sure. Ey, ya two! Don't ya have to catch a train in a few hours? Better get some sleep, too."  
Demoman hadn't paid attention to them anymore, comforted by his favorite scrumpy. Pyro nodded, lifted his friend up by his arm and dragged him across the room, both swaying and babbling in a language only drinking buddies could understand.

Once they were alone, Sniper pulled the Medic closer and kissed him.  
"Ya horny, eh?" he teased him, the answer was obvious, he had seen many faces like this.  
The German growled a reply, and held his head.  
"Dizzy?"  
"Ja..." The smell of alcohol, smoke and cold food was too strong.  
"Can you walk a few steps? Walk ahead and wait at the sitting area in the hallway, catch some air. Gonna follow in a few minutes, just wanna clean up a bit, or Spy's gonna throw a tantrum tomorrow, okay?"  
Whatever. Everything was okay. As long as he could get out of here, and as long as Sniper would follow.  
A few seconds after the German had left the common room, Sniper closed the door and reached for a metallic cigarette case in his pocket. With a swooshing sound the disguise disappeared and with it the Sniper.  
"Indeed, what a mess. 'orrible." Spy looked at the chaos on the table while he removed his gloves and jacket. "Loud and untidy, comme des enfants." He emptied the rest of his tea from the Sniper's favorite mug. "'onestly, Monsieur bushman, I 'ate your accent. Wonder what 'e sees in you. Bien, qu'importe." He shrugged, walked over to the telephone hanging on the wall, picked up the receiver and dialed two numbers and waited until his call was answered.  
"I expect you to attend a meeting on short notice in 45 minutes." he firmly instructed the man at the other end of the line, using the shrill, dominant, female voice they all knew too well. "I hope your health condition won't hinder you from being on schedule."

x x x x

Despite its barren, cold appearance the building's technical equipment was cutting edge, so even in the hallway and corridors air conditioning provided an agreeable temperature. Although the fresh, cool air didn't clear his head the feeling of sickness had disappeared, leaving Medic only with his dizzy, drunken mind and the need of his lover's body. Unable to keep track of time he wasn't sure if only a few minutes had passed or hours and for a moment he considered to go back to the common room, but the cold, smooth surface of the leather furniture felt too good to his skin, cooling him down a bit, and helping him to focus enough not to get rid of his clothes right away. It was still too warm, unbearably warm. With his head on the backrest of the couch, his eyes closed, he tried to remind himself of the fact that it was still winter and that he shouldn't drink too much, American beer seemed to have a strange influence on him.  
He didn't move when suddenly someone kissed him, he only wrapped his arms around the shoulders of the man to draw him closer so he could feel more of him. A strong fragrance of cigarettes, the taste of black tea on his lips, a strange, unusual mix. Realizing that something was wrong he opened his eyes and gave a start, trying to push the man above him back.  
"Spy! Vhat are you...?" he snapped, intending to shove the Frenchman aside and to stand up, but the Spy easily pushed him down.

"Vhat zhe hell...?" Physically, he was stronger than the skinny French, but for some reason, he couldn't muster up enough strength to use this advantage.  
"Shh, doctor, calm down, I want to 'elp." Gently, Spy started to lick and bite Medic's throat while he shoved the man's shirt up, revealing the white, firm abdomen, ignoring the sounds of protest.  
"Stop zhat, Spy!" the German hissed, biting his lip, struggling against Spy's body-weight.  
"Mai pour-qoui, why? Zis Sniper of yours, 'e does not come, 'e decided to do somezing else." Spy explained casually, kissing him again, this time forcing his tongue between the Medic's lips, his hand moving deeper, sliding over the tight fabric of the man's pants where it covered a hard bulge.  
The German groaned, letting the Spy's tongue in, but still refusing to answer the kiss. Spy stopped, moved to the man's ear, licking and nibbling at the earlobe, causing another, poorly suppressed moan.  
"Mon ami, you need 'elp wiz zis, trust me, it does not go away after a while." he whispered. "Or are ya preferrin' me talkin' like that to ya, mate?" He changed his voice to the Australian's hoarse bass.  
"Don't you dare, bastard." Scornfully, Medic tried to push him away once more, but again, to no avail.  
"Bien, moi, I prefer to be myself anyway. Do not reject me, dear doctor." he purred, his breath brushing against the skin of the man's ear. The Medic shivered.  
"Can't you see you need me? Zat you want me? You do not get 'ard like zat for everyone, non?" Spy continued with his own alluring voice.

"Mistkerl, vhat have you done... ah!" He hadn't noticed how the man's skilled, swift fingers had unbuttoned his pants, how he had shoved his hand further, pushing his clothes down and touching the hot, sensitive skin of his hard dick. Slowly, the Spy began to stroke and the Medic's thoughts dissolved into nothing, no matter how much he tried to keep concentrating, to remember what he had just wanted to do, but everything seemed to focus on his groin, the growing arousal, he simply forgot. His body was in control now, and he bent forward, seizing the Spy by his shoulders, trying to push him down.  
"Zat's good, dear doctor. Just enjoy. Zink of 'im if you must." Spy smiled. He hadn't expected that much resistance, considering the circumstances, but things would go smoothly from now on, since the Medic had finally given his consent.  
"Ne t'inquiète pas! Don't worry. You will like it wiz me, too, maybe more zan wiz 'im." He kneeled next to the man's legs and bowed down his head. Teasingly, he licked along the long, hard shaft before he swallowed the tip, satisfied when he heard another deep moan. He continued to lick and suck by turns, taking him in as deep as he could from this angle, while he freed the Medic first from his boots, then his pants, gently stroking the long legs, surprised how slim the German actually was, under his voluminous clothes. Not as thin as him, but not as bulky as expected. He got curious about the back and the shoulders, wishing he could explore the whole body, but he didn't have time for that.  
When he tasted the first salty drops on his tongue he decided it was time to move on. He withdrew, the hands grasping his mask and the underlying hair not strong enough to keep his head down.  
"Sorry, mon ami, not yet, we still 'ave twenty minutes to fill, and I zink I know 'ow." He sat down on the sofa, next to the Medic and shoved his hand between the man's legs and spread them. While his free hand searched for a small tube of lube in his pocket, he watched the German's face. There was no hint of repulsion or discomfort in the man's expression, his eyes were blank, like he was not actually there, but spacing out, only present with his shivering body and throbbing erection. Fascinating.  
Quickly he covered his hand with the slick, cool liquid and wrapped his hand around the shaft, smiling at the reaction – a long, yearning growl and a pulsating feeling against his skin. His hand moved deeper, he leaned forward and kissed him, bit him, let his tongue glide over the now slightly swollen lips when one finger slowly slid into the man's body, answered with an abrupt thrust of the Medic's hip.

"You like zat, do you not?" Spy took the growling sound for a 'yes'.  
"Who am I?" He withdrew and pushed in again, now adding a second finger. "Come, mon ami, who is doing zis?"  
"Spy..." Medic hoarsely answered, throwing his head back when the French pushed deeper.  
"Bien. Do not forget zat, 'ow much you like zat." He kissed the man's throat, spreading his fingers a little. "I must say, mon dear doctor, you are surprisingly soft zere, you are zat used to it? Or isn't zis ze first time today?" He grinned as the Medic's face blushed even more. Maybe he wasn't thinking right now, but he could understand perfectly well what he was told. Again, he licked the man's ear, the third finger entering the body less carefully than the others before. The German flinched for a moment, but Spy could already feel him relaxing around him as he shoved in as deep as he could, reaching the small, sensitive spot inside of him, biting his own lips as the man cried out with a growling, demanding voice he had never heard from him before.  
"So 'e already 'ad you today, eh? Or as zat imbécile would say – _fucked_ you, n'est-ce pas? Was it good?" He didn't receive an answer, the Medic had spaced out again, only realizing what was going on with – and inside – his body. Spy enjoyed the sight, the proud, even arrogant, always so collected Medic, the sarcastic workaholic, helplessly wincing around his – the Spy's – fingers in his lust. He couldn't help but wonder how passionate he usually might be, with the Sniper, without being drunk and tricked. Well, he would make sure the German wouldn't forget this night, and remember it whenever he would face the Australian in the future. Too bad he was running out of time.  
"Well, zis time, I fuck you, and you will love it, non?" He gave him another kiss, wilder and less gentle this time and removed his fingers from him. The Medic's whole body began to tremble and he leaned into the kiss, pressing against the Spy's thin frame.  
"More... please..." the German demanded, almost begged.  
"My, aren't you submissive today, is it zat easy to tame you?" Spy couldn't resist mocking him, feeling hard and restless himself, greedy for the wanting body.  
"So, you want more, mon ami." His left hand ruffled the dark, now tousled hair while the other one searched for the lube. "Turn around zen." he ordered, but the Medic hesitated, his eyes trying to focus.  
"You said you want more, non? Change of ze mind?" Spy reached for the still hard shaft, moving his hand up and down and the man's eyes unfocused again, giving in to the pleasure.  
"Come, show me zat 'andsome ass." Spy stood up, removed his belt and unzipped his pants and shoved them down.

"Or do you want a taste of zis before, want to wait zat long?" A little bluff, and it worked, slowly, the man turned around, kneeling on the couch now. Grinning, Spy covered his own dick with more of the lube and climbed behind the German. Medic groaned, his head half buried in one of the cushions, when Spy first shoved in his thump, testing if the man was really loosened up enough. There was no point in hurting him or himself, but the French didn't need to worry. He felt the muscle stretching around him as he first pushed the broad head of his dick inside, waited, and pushed a bit more, waiting again, giving the body the chance to adjust to his size. Reassured by the loud, guttural moans of the Medic he pulled back a little and pushed in again. From the other end of the corridor, he heard footsteps, belonging to long legs. Spy reached around Medic's waist, seizing his erection, and began to stroke firmly.  
"Gott, fuck me already..."  
"As you wish." With a grim, satisfied smile he pushed in all the way, groaning himself now, his voice mixing with the German's, when he almost pulled out and thrust again. Then again. Not caring anymore when he heard someone rush, no, run away, he increased the speed, the force of the thrusts, allowing himself to give up control at this point, just following the instinct of his carnal greed. The man under him cried out, trembling, and warm, sticky liquid ran over the Spy's hand. Clenching his teeth the Frenchman pushed in over and over again, almost lost his rhythm when he thought the footsteps had returned, but it was probably just his imagination, and a few seconds later, he gave a low cry, feeling the release flowing from his body, scratching along the Medic's back while the tension slowly vanished.  
"Evan..."  
The weak voice startled him and he needed a second to realize it came from the Medic, who finally collapsed on the couch.  
'So zat's zat imbécile's name. Interesting.' Obviously, the man was finally regaining his senses.  
"Zank you, mon ami, I'm glad you enjoyed it, too."

After putting his clothes back on again, he helped the Medic with his pants and half carried, half dragged him to his room.

x x x

What happened the next morning, the Spy didn't want to know. Neither the Sniper nor the Medic had been in the common room for breakfast and later he had to attend an appointment.  
He pushed away from the wall and, still lost in thought, walked in the direction of the common room. With the others enjoying their free days all over the world, Sniper shouting at Medic, he would be alone, and Spy knew it was for the better.  
No wonder he was surprised to see another forlorn figure sitting in the corner of another side passage, almost hidden in the shadows.  
"Eh, c'est le lapin." he laughed. "I zought you were at home, wiz your mozer and brozers, acting like a nice petit fils."  
Although he would never admit it, he had missed the young man. Of course, he was annoying, loud-mouthed and, well, young. But it was always fun to tease him and the Scout usually played along. Spy had actually thought that without the little pain in the butt around it was a bit too peaceful, almost boring. Besides, it had always been a nice feeling when he caught the boy smiling at him. A vivid character like the Scout was just who he needed to forget about all the depressing thoughts.  
But then he realized that something was wrong with the young man. Spy walked up to him and looked at him closely.

"What is wrong, did somezing 'appen at 'ome?" The red eyes worried him.  
"No. Piss off, frogs." the boy snapped and Spy's eyes widened when he finally saw that Scout, the bratty, overconfident Scout, was crying.  
"Mais... but what could 'ave..." But suddenly, he understood. Last night. Footsteps coming and going, Sniper. More footsteps, not an imagination.  
"You... you returned at night, lapin?" he asked slowly. "You saw us zen, n'est-ce pas?"  
Scout lifted his head and the Spy was surprised how much it hurt him to see so much contempt in the young man's eyes when Scout glared at him. Contempt, pain and disappointment.  
"I don't know what ya talkin' 'bout."  
"Scout..." Spy bowed down, his hand reaching for the wet, teary face, not really knowing what to say.  
"PISS OFF! DON'T TOUCH ME, ASSHOLE!" the Scout yelled at him all of a sudden and jumped back on his feet, pushing the Spy out of his way.  
"I don't give a GODDAMNED FUCK who you fuck and who not!" Without turning around, the young man dashed out of the room and closed the door with a bang.

Spy stared after him in disbelieve. Then he let himself drop on one of the sofas and picked another cigarette. This outcome of his latest assignment was unexpected. Scout's earlier return, the boy's reaction and how he himself felt about it. Watching the circles of smoke losing their shape he thought a moment about the conversation he had only a little while ago.

x x x

"Good job, Spy. Coffee?" The announcer smiled, nodding approvingly at the Frenchman.  
"Non, zank you." he answered, wondering if there was any blood left in her veins or if the pitch black liquid she was just pouring into her cup was the essence of her life.  
Apparently she was in a good mood.  
"I am aware of the fact that you probably have to face some problems with your teammates for a while, Spy. But I'm sure you understand that the rules have to be kept. I know most of you don't take the no-friendships-rule too seriously, and I was generous enough to tolerate that. But more than that... no." She emptied the cup in one draw and started to collect her papers and forms and stuffed them into her black briefcase.  
"In case the break-up is not final I trust you to inform me at once, Spy."  
He nodded.  
"Good. I appreciate your loyalty towards the organization. Keep up the good work and you will go far. You are dismissed." With a wave of her hand she told him to leave, her other hand, holding the receiver of her phone, dialing for her chauffeur.  
"Zank you, Mademoiselle." He got up from his chair and with a bow, he retreated.  
"Oh, Spy, before I forget it! So the little... formula worked as expected?"  
"Oui, Mademoiselle."  
"Is anything left of it?"  
"Non, Mademoiselle, ze... concentration was razer weak, so it is all used up."  
"Well, that's too bad. Thank you, Spy, you can leave now."

x x x

He sighed, playing with the little, half-filled bottle he had still hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket until now. Deceiving and lying, that was his profession, so it wasn't a big problem to deceive the announcer as well. Although it was challenging. That woman was a master of this game, too, but for now she would hopefully leave them all in peace.  
After all, his mission was accomplished to her full satisfaction.

"So zat's what zey mean when zey say 'two birds wiz one stone'. In zis case, four birds" He pulled a grimace. "Sometimes I 'ate zis job..."

Through the small window he could see the grey sky, darker than before. A bit too dark, even for this forsaken season, at this hour of the day. Narrowing his eyes, he stood up and took a closer look. Mixing with the rain, snowflakes were falling from the clouds, still too wet to cover this cruel, barren world under a layer of whiteness, but increasing in number. Maybe winter would come. The world kept turning.  
He threw the bottle in the air and caught it again, then he left the room.

"'allo _Evan_" he greeted the Sniper when he had arrived at the passage leading to the Medic's office.  
"YOU! PISS OF, YA BLOODY WANKER!" the Australian shouted, ready to lunge out. Spy took a few steps back and laughed.  
"Oui, zis is not ze first time I 'ear zat today. Oh, anyway, zis is for you." He tossed the small bottle at the Sniper who caught it midair.  
"What's that shit?"  
"Ah, mon ami, your petit boyfriend was not nice to you. Take your revenge wiz zat."  
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YA TALKIN' 'BOUT?"  
"Oh, zis is a nice little trick. Let 'im drink it at once or in several small doses and 'e becomes drunk. And 'orny. 'e will be at your will, and zere's nozing 'e can do about it. Isn't zat an appropriate way to get even wiz 'im, dear Evan?"  
Before he could react the Australian had seized him by the collar of his jacket and smashed him against the nearest wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. A quick, forceful blow followed, hitting him in his stomach so he doubled over, and another punch in his face. Blood rushed out of his nose when the fragile bone broke and he slumped down, falling to the floor.  
"Piss off. Piss off right now or I kill ya." Sniper hissed, and Spy knew he was serious. With a chuckle, he slowly got up again and, holding his stomach, staggered away.

Once out of sight, he heard the Sniper again banging against the door.  
"OPEN IT OR I CRUSH IT, YOUR CHOICE!"  
The moment of silence was followed by the clicking noise of a key.

"Job or not. Je suis un parisien après tout. Now, where is zat Scout?"

x x x x x the end x x x x x

_I wrote this almost half a year ago, where has the time gone? _

_Like "Twisted" this is one of my entries for a TF2-fanfic-contest on DeviantArt that asked us to choose from the offered pictures and to write whatever the pic inspires us to. ^^_

_It's a bit stupid, I wanted a different ending and I neglected the Spy/Scout part but believe it or not, while I was writing this, I got sick oO nah, not from my mediocre writing skills, because it was January and chilly and so I got a cold from one minute to the other, sore throat and fever included oO stupid stupid stupid. Well, at least I finished this nevertheless, with a nicer end than planned (I wanted to be mean xD )_

_I hope you could enjoy this anyway, at least a bit ^^_

_The translations (thank you, knightspendid, for helping me with the French bits!):_

_comme des enfants = like children_

Bien, qu'importe = whatever

Ne t'inquiète pas! = don't worry

petit fils = little boy/son

"Je suis parisien après tout". = I'm a Parisian after all.

and the German

Scheiß Migräne = fucking migraine

Warum nicht = why not

Mistkerl = bastard/asshole

Gott = god 


End file.
